


amor vincit omnia

by greenerovia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sense8 (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Family, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, we'll eventually get to the present so just you wait (just you wait)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-20 01:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14885090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenerovia/pseuds/greenerovia
Summary: Bucky and Steve have an inexplicable connection from the moment they meet as kids, not realizing they're but two in a much bigger picture that will keep them (and many others) linked across countries and decades, war, plane crashes in the Arctic, and HYDRA be damned.A Sense8 AU, in honour of the show's finale.





	amor vincit omnia

**Author's Note:**

> This idea stemmed from my dear friend Nicole, and I'm just world building around it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my best friend, Chynna, on National Best Friends Day.

**** They find one another when they’re kids; Bucky is walking back from the general store when he hears some unsavoury words being yelled back and forth down an alley. 

To his surprise, he finds a pint-sized kid with straw-blonde hair, trying to throw a punch at a boy easily twice his weight. 

To his greater surprise, this isn’t the first time he’s seen the boy before. 

He decides to save him, not even waiting for context before aiming a swift kick between beefy kid’s legs. Beefy runs away, swearing under his breath.

“I had that taken care of!”

Bucky looks over the boy’s bruised face incredulously. “Sure ya did, pal. You’re welcome. Are you--”

Pint-size begins wheezing uncontrollably as he attempts to catch his breath, and Bucky brings him home to Winifred Barnes, begging her to patch him up before he even knows his name.

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes grow thick as thieves, in one another’s pockets from the second they meet. 

Skinned knees and grass stains change over the years to black eyes and split lips - all on Steve, for the record, even though Bucky feels every punch and grapple like they’re his own hurts - but time and time again, he shows up at Steve’s side with an easy smile and all the confidence in the world, ready to act, to defend, to assist, to save. 

In time he starts appearing at Steve’s side when he needs help even though they both know he’s on the other side of town.

Neither of them question why or how it’s even possible, not when Steve’s (begrudgingly) grateful to be saved, not when Bucky’s (genuinely) grateful he’s done the saving.

* * *

“Can I tell ya somethin’?” Bucky says one day, arm slung loosely over Steve’s slender shoulders. 

Steve elbows Bucky’s side. “Like you’ve ever had to ask.”

It’s become their routine for the last five years, being joined at the hip, going to school, to work, to the park, and spending much of their free time at Bucky’s home. The Barnes’ - Bucky, his parents George and Winifred, and his little sister Rebecca - reside in a Flatbush brownstone. The space is warm and welcoming, much like the people who live there, who accepted Steve from the moment they met him. He visits practically every day, especially since his ma is always working anyhow.

“It’ll make me sound mad, Stevie.”

“You already  _ are _ crazy, Buck,” Steve retorts, earning him a laugh. “Just spit it out.”

Bucky takes a second to figure out what he wants to say, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip, before finally looking over at his friend. 

“I dreamed about you, before we even met. Saw you clear as day.”

Steve’s heart leaps to his throat, but he hopes Bucky doesn’t notice the little squeak he lets out. “Aw, Buck... don’t be a sap.”

“I’m serious, Steve. That’s… that’s another reason why I helped you that day, when you were getting beat to heck by that other kid. S’cause I recognized you. From my head.” Bucky stills, tugging his arm back so he can wring his hands together. Two steps ahead, Steve turns to look back and find Bucky’s usually teasing gaze replaced with something both earnest and incredibly disarming.

“Did you... honestly think I’d say you were mad?” Steve tilts his head. “Bucky. You show up in my room in the middle of the night, talkin’ to me, even though I know you’re in your bed, in _your_  home… and I know you aren’t a dream, 'cause we _both_ remember what we talked about the next day. We’re both crazy,” he sighs, shoulders sagging in relief when Bucky falls into step next to him again. “Hell, Buck, you know how sometimes, I’ll be shaving...”

“I honestly don’t know why you bother.”

“Jerk,” Steve huffs, before continuing on. “I’ll be shaving, and… and I look in the mirror and it ain’t my face I’m lookin’ at. It’s like I’m lookin’ through a window. I see your face. I see--”

“-- my face, too.”

The boys freeze in their tracks. 

The voice is soft, accented, and its source is a dame their age seated on the front steps of the brownstone they’re walking by. Her dark hair is curled, hitting her shoulders, and she’s got a bit of rouge on her cheeks to complement the cherry red of her lips. Her dress is a pale green with blue floral accents, soft and fluttery, with puffed cap sleeves. The loose skirt hits her calf, and her posture is immaculate. She’s an explosion of colour on an otherwise very dull, nondescript Brooklyn street, and she’s sitting in a very prim way that makes her look even more out of place than the rest of her already does.

Bucky and Steve are both slack-jawed, staring, and they both know with certainty that just seconds ago, she sure  _ wasn’t _ sitting there.

“So you can see me,” she says, clearly pleased. “Took you long enough.”

“Uh,” Bucky swallows, “ma’am? I think you’re lost. Buckingham Palace is that-a-way.” He raises one hand to gesture east.

When Steve blinks slowly, he swears he can see her, still seated, but they’re not in Brooklyn at all. She’s on a park bench, in a park that sure ain’t in Brooklyn, because if he remembers his art right (and he does), he’s pretty sure that’s a giant statue of Prince Albert not too far off in the distance. The air is crisp, the trees are green as can be, and her smile is coquettish but her gaze is kind.

Her laugh rings in his ears, bringing him back to the humid, oppressive, stinky heat of the street three blocks from the Barnes’. She’s still sitting, watching them both, and the twinkle in her eye tells Steve that she knows what he just saw, because she was there, too.

“You two have been so wrapped up with one another that it’s blocked you from noticing the rest of us,” she explains, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Still… you really ought to be careful, blabbing like girls in a schoolyard about our gift. One day, the wrong people might hear you.”

“The wrong people…? What?” Bucky looks dumbfounded. “The rest… of you…?”

“Goodness, there’s so much to explain,” she sighs, finally rising to her feet. After dusting off her skirt, she starts walking, turning her head back ‘round and flashing them a bright smile. “I’m Peggy, by the way.”

She keeps walking, and clearly expects them to follow her. 

So they do.


End file.
